Bles threw out his arms helplessly.
“Oh! it isn’t as bad as that all over the world, is it?”
“It’s worse,” affirmed Miss Wynn, quietly positive.
“And you are still friendly with him?”
“What would you have? I use the world; I did not make it; I did not choose it. He is the world. Through him I earn my bread and butter. I have shown him his place. Shall I try in addition to reform? Shall I make him an enemy? I have neither time nor inclination. Shall I resign and beg, or go tilting at windmills? If he were the only one it would be different; but they’re all alike.” Her face grew hard. “Have I shocked you?” she said as they went toward the door.
‚ÄúNo,‚Äù he answered slowly. ‚ÄúBut I still‚ÅÝ‚Äîbelieve in the world.‚Äù
‚ÄúYou are young yet, my friend,‚Äù she lightly replied. ‚ÄúAnd besides, that good Miss Smith has gone and grafted a New England conscience on a tropical heart, and‚ÅÝ‚Äîdear me!‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut it‚Äôs a gorgeous misfit. Goodbye‚ÅÝ‚Äîcome again.‚Äù She bowed him graciously out, and paused to take the mail from the box. There was, among many others, a letter from Senator Smith.